


Please don't make me dream alone

by owlaholic68



Series: 1950's College Gay Time [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: 1950s Slang, Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Greasers, Canon Gay Character, F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Teenage Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-01-23 06:28:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12500948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlaholic68/pseuds/owlaholic68
Summary: Winter Semester, 1959.Arcade Gannon, pre-med student, makes the acquaintance of the most eligible bachelor on campus: the King.





	1. Chapter 1

Arcade crosses his arms and sighs. He hovers just outside the library doors, staring out at the pouring rain. It hadn’t been raining when he had arrived. He draws his satchel closer to his chest and peers out into the dim courtyard. He's going to be soaked by the time he gets to the next building, let alone all the way across campus to his dorm. He looks around, but there’s no one walking by. The campus is dark, only a few streetlights illuminating the sidewalks. Arcade’s watch reads 9:45 P.M., just fifteen minutes before his dorm’s strictly-enforced curfew. This is what he gets for studying late.

“Why can’t it just snow during winter instead of rain?” He grumbles, pulling his coat tighter around his shoulders and resigning himself to a miserable walk home. Just as he starts to step out from under the overhang, a group of greasers push open the library doors.

“We’re singin….in the rain!” One of them sings at the top of his lungs, his arms slung around two others. They’re all dressed in matching leather jackets, and Arcade doesn’t need to look at the logo on the back to know that these are the Kings, a gang infamous for causing minor trouble on campus. And the King himself is there too, easy to spot in his pristine white jacket and perfectly-coiffed hair.

Arcade winces. In his eyes, the King is just another filthy rich frat. His parents have money, so he thinks he can mess around doing whatever he wants. He even gave himself that pretentious nickname.Arcade pretends to be looking for something in his bag and resigns himself to standing under the overhang for a few minutes so he doesn't have to walk with the gang. They take their time passing them, all of them eschewing umbrellas in favor of laughing and pushing each other on the slippery sidewalks.

“What’s kickin’?” The King asks, and Arcade takes a second to realize that he’s speaking to him. The King leans against the wall next to him, letting the rest of his gang go on ahead. “You look real low, nerd. Rain gettin’ you down?”

“Uh, yes?” Arcade responds, unsure if this is a trap. “I don’t have an umbrella.”

The King looks him over, then grins and reaches into his bag, pulling out a small collapsible umbrella. “Here, take mine, darlin’. Can’t have your peepers gettin’ all fogged up, can we?”

Arcade blushes, cursing his fair and expressive skin. He'd never admit it, but the King has a nice voice. Still, he’s a little too smooth, calling his “darling” like that. And doesn’t he need his umbrella, or does he just not care about ruining his clothes?Arcade hesitates before taking the umbrella. “Thanks.”

The King pats him on the shoulder before walking out into the rain, the water immediately drenching his white coat. “I’ve gotta split. See you ‘round sometime, okay?”

“Come on, K!” One of the Kings hangs back and beckons to him. With one last confident grin, the King jogs to catch up with the rest of his gang.

Arcade quickly walks home, the plain black umbrella keeping him from the worst of the downpour, though he has to dump out his shoes and wring out the hem of his pants when he slips into his dorm mere minutes before curfew.

He sets the umbrella next to his desk, noticing an engraved crown on the handle. He sits on his bed and stares at the innocuous object for a few minutes, before shaking himself and getting up to start getting ready for bed. It’s not like he has a-he stops that train of thought. The King’s just a jerk who had a small moment of consideration. It didn’t mean anything.

* * *

“So then Veronica rattled with the guy, over nothing, really!” Julie says, then takes a bite of her sandwich and disapprovingly looks over at Veronica, who is dangerously leaning backwards in her chair.

“Wasn’t over nothin’!” Veronica protests. Arcade raises an eyebrow at their argument. Around them, the university cafeteria bustles, students loudly chatting over their meals.

“Then what was it about?”

They share a glance, then Julie huffs and turns back to Arcade. “Some beat loser whistled at me from across the road.” She crosses her arms. “We could have just ignored him and walked away, but no! Veronica had to start a fight in the middle of the street.”

“What did you want to me to do, just let him eyeball you like that?” Veronica sets her chair legs on the floor and puts her hands on the table. “What kind of gal would I be if I didn’t stick up for my girl?”

“That’s just old-fashioned!” Julie argues. “You don’t need to punch everyone who looks at me funny! It’s not your responsibility to protect me from the big, bad world out there! I can take care of myself just fine!”

Someone loudly laughs at the far end of the room, drawing Arcade’s attention. A group of Kings sit on a table, their feet propped up on the chairs. The King himself sits in a chair, legs sprawled out and elbow up on the table. Arcade frowns. He's arrogant. Self-absorbed. The King chuckles at something one of them says, taking a long sip from a Coca-Cola bottle. And a little hot?

“Arcade? Earth to Arcade, do you come in?” Julie reaches across the table to poke him in the shoulder.

“Yeah?” He startles, quickly looking away from the King. “What?”

“We wanted to know what you think,” Julie says.

Arcade pauses to collect his thoughts. “I’m going to have to side with you on this one, Julie. Personally, I’d feel uncomfortable with that kind of behavior.” Veronica frowns. “I mean, I get it. You feel like it’s a personal affront or something. But sometimes you’ve just to let one slide. Sooner or later, you’re going to pick a fight you’re not going to be able to win. And where would that leave Julie?”

Veronica sighs. She looks up at her girlfriend, then down again. “I guess. Will it make you happy if I bust a few less noses on your behalf?”

Julie reaches out and slips an arm around her waist. “It would certainly help me worry a lot less, that’s for sure.”

Arcade can’t help but watch the King out of the corner of his eye. He needs to at least give him his umbrella back. He tunes out the sappy things Veronica and Julie are whispering to each other, pulling the small umbrella from his bag and turning it over in his hand. He swallows and nervously runs a hand through his hair. Stop being so weird about it, he mentally tells himself. All he has to do is walk over and hand it back. Then he never has to think about him again.

“Hey, where are you going-” Julie calls after he abruptly stands up and walks away. A few of the Kings cock their heads and frown at him when he approaches. Arcade stops in front of the King, who notices him and gives him a winning smile. He pretends like it doesn’t make his heart flutter, just the slightest waver.

“Thanks again for letting me borrow this.” He holds out the umbrella. The King lazily leans forward and takes it.

“No problem. What’s your name, sunshine?”

Arcade frowns at the nickname. Calling him cutesy names when we’ve known each other for all of five minutes. “Arcade.”

“Arcade,” the King croons the name. Despite himself, Arcade’s cheeks heat up. “Me and the boys were gonna head out tonight and burn some rubber. Wanna tag along? Won’t be no problem, there’s plenty’a room in my seat.”

“No thanks.” Arcade folds his arms. “Not a fan of risking my life for stupid reasons, to be honest.”

One of the Kings elbows his leader. “Ooh, he wants to take it _slow_ , K.”

“Your loss, Sunny Boy,” the King leans back in his chair. “Just hit me up if you wanna take me up on that offer. We can even just hang in the backseat if that's more your style.”

“No.” Arcade turns on his heel and walks back to his table. The nerve of the King to suggest something like that when he learned Arcade's name not even a minute ago...

“What was all that about?” Julie asks. “Why did- hey, Arcade!” He's grabbing his books and stuffing an apple in his bag, not even stopping to put away his lunch tray before storming out of the cafeteria.

Veronica shares a look with Julie, then both of them swivel their heads to glare at the Kings. “We need to get to the bottom of this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED: June 10, 2018
> 
> Slang (so much slang): 
> 
> frat: pretentious rich kid (not quite the same connotation as today)  
> peepers: glasses  
> rattle: (Come on snake, let's rattle!) pick a fight with someone  
> beat: ("some beat loser") a beatnik guy. Kind of the more rebellious and poorer version of greasers.  
> burn some rubber: drag racing. Super dangerous, people like died and shit. Arcade is so not for that.  
> hang in the backseat: make out. Yeah...Arcade really doesn't want to backseat bingo with someone he just met, a little offended that the King thinks he's that easy.


	2. Chapter 2

“Room 130, 132, 134,” Arcade quietly counts under his breath, passing classroom after classroom. He glances at the note taped to the manilla folder in his hands: Room 147. His anatomy professor had asked him to deliver a report to a dance instructor after class. Eager to please one of the department heads who would surely help him get into medical school, he had accepted without hesitation. But now, wandering around the twisting mess of the Arts Building, he almost wishes he had refused.

“138, 139, 152,” he mumbles, then stops and rubs his head. Why can't all of the numbers be in logical order? He's turned into a small hallway dedicated to small practice rooms, music and singing occasionally filtering into the hallway. Through the small windows on the doors, Arcade sees pianists bent over their instruments, singers doing vocal exercises, and dancers twirling and jumping in the more spacious chambers.

“Fuck!” A familiar voice shouts, a loud _thump_ following the exclamation. Arcade, piqued by curiosity, peeks into the room. The King is sitting on the floor, rubbing his knee. He's dressed in a simple black leotard, barefoot and with messy hair. As Arcade watches, he stands up and gestures to someone else in the room. “Play it again from the top. I'll get it this time, was just a timing issue.” Cheerful music starts up, and the King strikes a pose before starting to sing.

“I'm dancin’ in the rain,” he sings, swinging around an invisible lamppost before jumping high, his left leg swinging in a graceful arc. He does all sorts of impossible things with his body, twisting it in a graceful imitation of a solo waltz.

Arcade can't stop watching. This is a side to the King that he's never even heard whispered of, the side that swears and looks less-than-perfect, the kind of guy that spends hours in a practice room. He had thought he just paid his way into his degree. Had he assumed wrongly? Maybe he's made some other judgemental inferences too.

Inside the room, the music stops again. Just as Arcade turns to leave, the door slams open, nearly hitting him. The King storms out, nearly colliding with him before jumping backwards in surprise.

“Uhh…” Arcade flounders. “Sorry! I was just passing by. I’ll just...leave now.”

The King catches his arm. “Hold on, sunshine. You don’t have to go so fast. Want a front-row seat to the spectacle?”

“Only if you stop calling me that. You do know my name, how about you try and use it for once? Or did you already forget it?”

“Okay, _Arcade._ It’s a deal. Come on in, Pacer won’t mind.” The King holds the door open for him. One of the Kings is sitting on a small table, a portable record player sitting in front of him. “Pacer, this is Arcade. Arcade, this is my roommate.” Pacer frowns at him but nods in greeting. “Here, stand here, sunny-I mean, Arcade. Maybe all’s we need’s another pair of peepers to see why this bit isn’t cookin’.”

Arcade leans against the wall. The King takes position and nods to Pacer, who sets the needle on a record. Arcade's not entirely sure what he's going to be able to see that they won’t. He's not a dancer nor a singer. He still watches, taking note of the King’s very athletic legs and melodic voice.

“This part,” Pacer murmurs, half to himself.

“I walk down the lane, with a happy refrain,” the King sings. Arcade closely watches, thinking of how strong his chest muscles are, that he can sustain notes like the ones he’s singing. The King twirls an imaginary umbrella, then pivots on his heel and bends his knees to jump. “Just singin’-” He raises the umbrella, twists in the air, and his voice loses the note, wavering significantly as he lands badly and stumbles. Pacer cuts the music.

Arcade saw it as if it had played before him in slow-motion. Two problems with the same source. When looked at from a medical standpoint, it’s pretty obvious.

“So what'd ya think?” The King rubs his leg.

“In my expert medical student opinion,” Arcade pushes up his glasses, “you need to raise your arm more. You’re keeping it too close to your body and it’s messing with both your airflow and your balance. I think.”

Pacer’s face lights up and he nods. “I think Doc’s right, K. You’re gonna have the umbrella, too, so you’re gonna have to hold it farther out anyways.”

“Eureka!” The King grins. “Let’s try it again!”

This time, it works perfectly. The King finishes up the song, then pats Pacer on the shoulder. Arcade yelps as the King wraps his arms around his waist and picks him up, swinging him in a half-circle. “Knew you had real strong jets in that head of yours, sunshine!”

“You’re really short,” Arcade unthinkingly blurts, realizing that the King only came up to his shoulder. “Sorry!”

Pacer cackles behind them. The King pouts and sets Arcade down, but keeps his arms around his waist. “I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear that. Anyways, if you’re a med student, what’re you doin’ in this building?”

“Oh, yeah!” Arcade subtly detaches himself and shows them the folder. “I’ve got to give this to Professor Van Dyke, but I got lost trying to find his office.”

“Well, let me escort ya,” he locks arms with Arcade and gives Pacer a flippant wave. “I’ll be back to help ya clean up, don’t fret. Now come on, _Arcade_ _,_ let’s split. His room is just down the hall, but it’s tucked in a wacky corner.”

They walk down the hallway for a minute, Arcade looking anywhere but the King. Why is he being so nice to him again? He's being real touchy-feely too, with someone he doesn't hardly know. Is this just how he is with everyone?

“So, _Arcade,_ what's kickin’ with you this weekend? Got any hot dates or somethin’?” the King asks.

“No?” Arcade hesitantly replies.

“Wanna have one? There's a real swell movie playin’ right now.”

They get to Room 147 before he gets a chance to respond. Arcade quickly pokes his head in the open door, glad for any chance to buy himself some time to think of an answer.

“Professor Van Dyke?” His voice cracks. The dance instructor looks up from his desk and smiles, the grin growing when he sees the King.

“Come in, come in. What can I do for you two young men?” He warmly puts a hand on the King’s shoulder. “Ken, how's your routine going?”

“It's coming along nicely, sir. I've worked out some of the kinks.” The King’s respectful tone shocks Arcade almost more than the fact that his name was _Ken_. What. The. Actual. Heck.

“And you, young man, I don't know you. Are you part of the theatre program too, or just a friend of Ken’s?” He addresses Arcade.

“Actually, Doctor Smith asked me to bring this to you.” He holds out the folder.

“Ah, wonderful! Tell her I said thank you, alright?” Arcade nods. “Now run along, boys. I'll see you tomorrow night, Ken.”

“So?” the King- no, _Ken,_  turns to him once they're alone in the hallway.

“Your name is actually Ken?” Tactful as ever, Arcade. 

“Actually, it's Kenneth.” The King shrugs. “But call me K, okay, sunshine? Anyways, what'd you say?”

Arcade wants to avoid answering. He doesn't know why, but he actually feels a little bad rejecting him this time. Maybe he deserves a chance...but he just doesn't know. He's never been good at these kinds of things. “I...actually have to work this weekend. Sorry. Maybe...maybe some other time.”

“That's okay, ‘Cade.” He grins up at him before turning away. “Can you find your way out without me, or are you just gonna get turned ‘round again?”

“Wait!” Arcade suddenly feels guilty. K was being genuine this time. He thinks. Arcade will give him a shot before deciding whether or not he actually likes him. He's assumed too much already, he might as well wipe the slate clean and start on a better foot. “How about getting coffee after class tomorrow, around 3 o’clock?” Easy, casual, doesn't last too long, just in case it totally bombs.

The King’s face lights up. “Peachy! I'll meet ya at that cozy place ‘cross the street, okay?” His hand lingers for a second on Arcade’s arm, then he winks at him and walks away.

Arcade tears himself away from staring at his retreating back, a faint blush on his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED: June 10, 2018. 
> 
> Loosely based off of every old building on my campus, which never seem to have sensible room numbering systems.
> 
> Me @the King: you know Arcade's name goddammit, stop giving him nicknames!!  
> Me @me: stop making everything a Singing in the Rain reference, you haven't even seen that movie. It's not even a 1959 movie why is it in this fic???
> 
> Slang:  
> peepers: eyes (in this case)  
> cooking: working (why this part isn't working)  
> jets: brain (you're real smart)


	3. Chapter 3

“And that is why it is important to consider how the lymphatic system…” The anatomy teacher drones. He motions to a yawning grad student, who changes slides with a sharp click. “As I was saying…”

Arcade resists the urge to fidget with his pen, choosing instead to ignore the professor and think about his upcoming date. He doesn't know how he expected them to pay attention when all of this was in the textbook anyways. Seated next to him, Julie smothers a yawn with one hand. Arcade's so completely zoned out that he almost jumps in his chair when a small piece of paper hits his hand. He unfolds it, keeping it half-under his notebook.

> _What was up with the Kings the other day?_

The note reads. Arcade sneaks a look over at Julie, who innocently keeps her eyes on the blackboard.

> _Nothing. Mind your own business, Julie._

He passes the note back.

> _Don't lie._

Arcade frowns.

> _Ok, fine, I'll tell you after class._

The professor frowns up at them. Julie deftly slips the paper into her notebook, and both of them look innocent. Arcade ardently focuses on the _fascinating_ lecture on how the lymphatic system can complicate medical diagnoses, putting the conversation to the back of his mind.

Until he walks out of the lecture hall and sees the King leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed. Arcade stops short, his heart skipping a beat.

Julie almost runs into his back. “Hey!” She sees the King obviously waiting for him, and puts the pieces together. A sly grin works its way onto her face. “Oohh....Give me all the details later. Now go have fun.” She pats him on the arm, then walks away.

“Uh, hey?” Arcade stammers. The King smoothly takes his arm and leads the way out of the building.

“Good afternoon, sunshine. How was class?”

It's a good question, a solid starter to avoid any awkwardness. Arcade quickly launches into a description of the most boring class of his life, and reciprocates with a question about the King’s classes. Arcade finds himself drawn in by his story, his way of speaking, where everything makes him laugh. They settle in a table in the café and only pause for a minute to order drinks. Black coffee with plenty of sugar for Arcade, a hot chocolate for the King. They share a blueberry scone.

“I never knew that the theatre program was so demanding,” Arcade admits. They’ve been swapping stories about their respective programs.

The King leans forward and shrugs. “It usually isn’t, but I wanted to be more well-rounded, so I added two minors: dance and voice. If I want to succeed and become famous, I have to be able to outshine the competition. And if that means putting in some extra hours, it’s worth it.”

Arcade finds himself smiling. The King is interesting. And funny, and unexpectedly humble. In a lull in the conversation, he looks out the window and freezes. The street is dark, the streetlights shining down on passerby. “It’s past six o’clock,” he says in wonder, looking down at his watch. "How did the time fly by so fast?"

The King seems similarly surprised. “I feel like we’ve only been here for an hour. Say, ‘Cade, wanna go grab dinner someplace? By the time we’d be makin’ it back to the caf, dinner’d be almost done.”

“Sure,” Arcade immediately agrees. He had chosen a coffee date because he was worried he wouldn’t enjoy his company. But he does. And he's almost certain that he wants to continue talking to him. “I know of a good place just down the street. Italian, if you like that.”

“Too many carbs, sunny boy. How ‘bout that diner next door?”

* * *

If Arcade had know that ‘that diner’ was the same diner that Julie and Veronica were currently having their own date in, he would have been able to mentally prepare himself. As it was, he was left stuttering and blushing while his friends politely introduce themselves to the King.

“So.” Veronica leans forward on the table. She and Julie are seated on one side, Arcade and the King squished on the other side. She very slowly takes a fry from Arcade’s heaping basket, deliberately looking the King in the eyes as she eats it.

“So.” he also reaches over and takes one of Arcade’s fries, holding it daintily in his hand.

“Hey!” Arcade protests. “If you wanted something besides burgers, you should have ordered your own- mmph!” he blushes as the King unexpectedly feeds him the fry. He can’t help but maintain eye contact with the King as he does so.

Across the table, Julie groans and puts her head in her hands. She mutters something that might be “get a room”, then leans against Veronica’s shoulder. “Were we ever this bad?”

“You still are.”

“We still are.” Arcade and Veronica say in unison. Veronica giggles and entwines her fingers with Julie’s. Under the table, Arcade feels a hesitant brush of a hand against his own. He peeks at the King, who is obviously trying to look nonchalant and not at all nervous. He steels himself. There’s no harm in holding his hand. He’s been nothing but a gentleman this whole time. Arcade seizes his moment of clarity and boldness and grabs the King’s hand under the table.

He looks like he’s going to explode with excitement, bouncing slightly in his seat. _Calm down, hotshot,_ Arcade thinks, then mentally kicks himself. He's coming up with pet names already? Oh no, the King must be rubbing off on him. 

“So are you two free this Tuesday night?” Veronica asks, then looks over at Julie and immediately face-palms. “Duh, no. You have weekly study night. How about Thursday?”

The King taps his chin. “Thursday’s just peachy. What’d ya got in mind, sis?”

“The roller rink’s got a ‘buy one, get one free’ deal goin’ on right now,” Veronica explains. “Maybe we could make it a double date?” She raises her eyebrows at Arcade, as if to ask if there was even going to be a second date. He nods.

“Fine with me. What do you think, K?” He asks.

“Sounds like a real blast. You know how to skate, sunshine, or am I gonna have to hold yer hand to stop ya from tumblin?”

Arcade puffs up in indignation. “Of course I-”

“He most certainly does _not_ know how to skate,” Julie cuts in with a knowing grin. “Last time we went for a party, he just sat on the side the whole time!”

 _“Julie!"_  Arcade protests, cheeks hot. At his side, the King roars with laughter, holding his stomach with one hand.

The conversation flows from there. It's fun and light and everything that Arcade had ever dreamed of. An hour later, they leave the diner together.

“Hey, sweet ride,” the King says, eyeing Veronica’s bike.

“Thanks a bunch!” She replies, then swings her leg over the seat. Julie kisses her on the cheek.

The King bids them farewell too, exchanging phone numbers with Arcade before giving him a chaste one-armed hug. He shoots him a wink and a wave over his shoulder.

“So,” Julie says once they're walking back to their dorms. “How'd your date go? He seemed nice, not as arrogant as I thought he'd be.”

Arcade nonchalantly shrugs. “It was better than I expected,” he admits. “Don't tell anyone, but I kinda like him a little bit.”

Julie grins. “Great. I guess opposites really do attract, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED: June 10, 2018
> 
> ...I said frequent updates, right? Well, I guess I lied a little.  
> FYI, this is probably the only thing that will go up this weekend, since I've got major essay writing for school to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble in paradise. Arcade should go for a counseling degree instead. The shovel talk.

“Where’s Julie?” Arcade asks when he sits down at their table. It’s a windy Tuesday day, cold for early February, and all of the students entering the cafeteria shed layers of gloves and scarves. Thankfully, the cafeteria was serving hot soup and grilled sandwiches.

Veronica glares down at her food, moodily fiddling with her spoon. “Don’t know.”

“Well, she said she was going to meet me here,” Arcade muses. “She went to go grab something from her dorm before lunch.” Julie was just in the same class as him. Maybe she’ll show up in a few minutes.

Arcade shrugs and starts eating, keeping one eye on the door. He eats his sandwich with one hand and skims his class notes with the other. Five minutes pass, then ten, and no sign of Julie. Arcade frowns and looks at the tables around him. Did he miss K come in too? Pacer and the rest of the Kings are sitting at the table next to them as usual, but the seat next to Arcade is empty.

“She’s probably not going to show up,” Veronica blurts, noticing him craning his neck to search the cafeteria.

“What? Why not?” Arcade asks, confused, since she said she didn’t know where Julie was.

Veronica crosses her arms. “Nothing. Probably just wanted to munch in her dorm or somethin’. I don’t know.” At Arcade’s unconvinced look, she frowns at the table. “Okay. She’s probably still mad at me.”

“Mad at you? Did something happen?” Arcade leans forward, alarmed, and whispers, “did you two _break up?”_ They were fine on Thursday when they had all went rollerblading. What could have happened in less than a week?

Veronica quickly shakes her head. “No, we didn’t go _that_ far, not yet. And I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“I can talk to Julie tonight, if you want?” Arcade offers. Veronica noncommittally shrugs. “Alright, I just want you to know that I’m not taking sides here. Julie’s my friend, but you are too.”

“Thanks,” she says. “I appreciate it. But it’s just- I just don’t want to talk about it right now.”

An awkward silence falls between them. Out of the corner of his eye, Arcade sees Pacer stand up and start to weave his way towards the exit. Arcade quickly grabs his coat and bag and hurries after him.

“Pacer!” He says, trying not to look nervous. He's never really talked to him with the King being there too. “What’s up? Where’s K?”

Pacer runs a hand through his gelled hair and clears his throat. “Oh, Doc. Good to see ya.” His voice sounds stuffy. “He’s come down with the flu or somethin’, a real nasty bug. This weather’s a real downer, ya know?”

“Oh.” Despite having only been dating him for a little less than two weeks (are they even official?), Arcade feels a glimmer of worry for him. “That sounds really bad. Do you want me- does he need anything brought over?”

Pacer raises his eyebrows. “He’s been complaining about his throat. You know how he is with singing. Can’t have him straining his voice.”

“I’ve got a jar of honey and a bag of cough drops in my dorm,” Arcade offers. He quickly looks at his watch and frowns at the time. “I have to run to class right now, but I’m free after three to drop by, uh, wherever you live.”

Pacer laughs and claps him on the shoulder. “It’s a rare boyfriend of his that _hasn’t_ been to our pad, but they usually come for a _different_ reason.” Arcade feels his cheeks heat up, both at the implication and the fact that Pacer called him K’s _boyfriend._  “Now we’re cookin’ with gas. How ‘bout I meet ya at half past by the clock tower? We live off-campus, but it’s just down the road.”

“Okay,” Arcade says, pulling his hat on and rubbing his hands together in preparation for going outside. “I’ll bring some tea too. And you take care of yourself,” he orders, putting on his best ‘doctor’ voice. “You don’t sound too good either. Warm up or whatever before you do all of your crazy vocal practices.”

Pacer grins up at him. “Thanks. You’re real nice, Doc. See you later.”

* * *

Julie is already sitting in class when Arcade gets there. She ignores him in favor of flipping through a book. Before he can get a chance to say anything, the professor walks in and starts class.

Arcade tears a page from his notebook and writes a message on it, passing it to Julie.

> _You okay?_

She frowns and looks down at it. He feels the note brush his hand and peeks down at it. She didn’t write anything, choosing instead to stare _too_ intently at the chalkboard. Arcade sighs. The middle of class isn’t really the place for this serious of a conversation.

> _Are we still on for study night tonight?_

Julie scribbles an affirmative reply.

Arcade slips the note into his folder, then rests his chin on his hand and forces himself to stop watching the clock. Another class after this, then he's going to run over to K’s dorm. Then it’s study night with Julie, which will most likely turn into emotional sleepover conversations.

It’s going to be a long day.

* * *

There are a few new off-campus apartments available to students. Some are closer to downtown Vegas, but a couple buildings are just down the road. Pacer walks with Arcade and stops at the door, fishing out a key and unlocking the main door. Arcade adjusts the bag in his hands. In addition to the items he’d planned on bringing, he’d added a thermometer, a can of soup, a few small oranges, and an extra blanket. Was it too much? Was he overreacting? He follows Pacer up a set of stairs and down a hallway. He unlocks room 253.

“Pace?” The King’s raspy voice quietly comes from the apartment. It’s followed by a fit of coughing.

“Yeah, K, it’s me,” Pacer replies, waving Arcade in and shutting the door behind him. “And guess who I brought with me?” He leads him into the small living room. K is laying on the couch half-watching TV. He raises his head from the mound of blankets he’s wrapped himself in.

He quietly gasps when he sees Arcade. Then he stays like that, mouth open and eyes wide, for a solid minute while Arcade shuffles his feet and tries not to be awkward about the attention.

“Geez, I think you done broke him,” Pacer mutters. Arcade shakes himself and remembers the items in his hands.

“I’m going to make some tea,” he says, walking over to the couch and shaking a thermometer in one hand. He tries to hand it to K, but when he doesn’t take it, still staring up at him, Arcade sighs and puts it in his open mouth. “Are you hungry? Would you like an orange?” He holds out the fruit.

K slowly shakes his head. “Okay, are you nauseous?” He shakes his head again. The thermometer beeps and Arcade takes it. It reads 101 **°.** “Well, you do have a fever, but nothing too serious. I’m going to make you that tea now, okay?”

He walks into the kitchen and searches a few cabinets before finding a teapot. While it boils, he takes a look around the apartment. It’s surprisingly clean, only a few counters having stray coffee grounds or crumbs. The countertops are clear of clutter, and the shelves and cabinets are decently organized.

“Sunshine?” K croaks, shakily walking to his side and trailing a blanket behind him. “Thought you mighta been a fever dream or somethin’.”

Arcade can’t help but smile at his appearance: tousled hair, droopy tired eyes, and all layered up in sweats and pajamas. Then he frowns. “You’re wearing too much clothing.”

In the other room, Pacer cackles.

K pouts. “But I’m _cold_ , ‘cade!” Right on cue, he shivers and pulls his blanket closer.

“I know,” Arcade says in his most comforting voice. “But trust me, I know what I’m talking about. And I brought a really warm blanket for you.” Behind him, the tea comes to the right temperature. “Listen, I’ll get this ready for you. You go change into something lighter, and this tea will make you feel warm.”

K stares at him for a second before turning away. “Okay, Doc. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Arcade peeks around the kitchen door to make sure he walks all the way to his bedroom, then works on getting the tea ready. He adds a couple spoonfuls of honey and sets the small jar on the countertop. He piles the oranges and can of soup next to it before walking into the living room with the hot tea.

He carefully puts it into his boyfriend’s (his _boyfriend!_ ) shivering hands. While he curls around the mug and puts his face over the steam, Arcade unfolds the blanket he brought and drapes it over his shoulders. The TV is softly playing, some old show on the screen.

“Thanks,” K says after a minute of staring down into his tea.

“You’re supposed to drink it,” Arcade jokes. “It has honey in it, it’ll help your sore throat.”

He obediently sips the tea, grimacing at the taste. All of the honey in the world couldn’t mask the bitter taste of herbal tea. At Arcade’s encouragement, though, he manages to down almost all of the mug. He shivers. Arcade puts his arm around his shoulders and adjusts the blanket over both of them.

“This should only last for a few more days,” he says. “Just keep resting.”

K hums. “Can ya come back tomorrow? There’s a real swell show on at 5. We could order a pizza or somethin’.” He leans against Arcade’s shoulder. Before he can respond, Pacer comes into the living room. “Pace! Give him a key, will’ya?”

“A key?” Arcade says. A key to his apartment? That’s getting into real serious territory. What’s K going to give him next, a leather jacket? He reluctantly accepts the key from Pacer and slips it into a pocket. “Yeah, I can come over tomorrow. I might have to do some homework, though. But I can just hang here.”

The King slowly smiles. “You’re the best, sunshine,” he whispers. “Like crazy.” He leans in to kiss Arcade.

“Ew, no. Don’t kiss me when you’re sick.” Arcade covers his face. “Do you want to get me sick too?” At K’s crestfallen pouty face, he sighs. “Fine. I’ll kiss you, and then you can give me a raincheck for when you’re better, okay?”

“Okay,” the King says. “Neato.”

Arcade kisses him on the cheek. “There.”

K yawns and shivers. Arcade kisses him again and looks at his watch, noticing the lengthening shadows outside.

“Listen, I’ve got to go grab dinner before I head over to Julie’s to study.” He tries to pull away but K wraps his arms around his waist and whines. “No, really. I promise I’ll be back tomorrow, okay? There’s some soup and fruit in the kitchen, and more honey if your throat hurts.”

“You’re such an angel, darlin’. Are you coming back tomorrow?” K says.

“Yes, I already said that,” Arcade says, and manages to disentangle himself and stand up. “Promise. Now go to sleep, hotrod.” He internally winces at the pet name that escapes him. In the kitchen, Pacer quietly laughs before escorting him out of the apartment.

Before they exit the stairwell, Pacer grabs his arm.

“Listen, Doc, I’ll play straight with ya,” Pacer says. “You’re the best guy K’s ever been with. Not the coolest, not by a long shot.” Arcade snorts. “He’s been around the block a few times, but most folks don’t stick with him for more than a week. They get sick of him or somethin’. But he really glows about ya,” Pacer grins. “You shoulda seen him before he went out rollerblading or whatever with you guys. Checkin’ his nest a gazillion times, changing duds ten times, the works.”

“He talks about me?” His voice cracks, and the tips of his ears glow bright red. “Oh.”

Pacer laughs. “You wouldn’t even believe the lollipop-sweet ooze that comes out of his mouth. Other guys and gals he was with, we sometimes didn’t even know their names. But every other word is “oh, Arcade said this the other day,” or “you wouldn’t believe who I just had lunch with? Oh, Arcade, you guessed? You’d be spot on, Pace!” It would be sickening how kookie he is for ya, if we didn’t like to see him so happy. And stickin’ your neck out for him like you did today? It woulda killed one of his old beaus to even send a card. Oh, don’t go blabbing to him about any of this, by the way, capiche?.”

“Of course not,” Arcade wants to jump into a hole and stay there for the rest of his life. K talks sweet about him all of the time. To his super-cool friends. And that apparently isn’t normal for him. “I assume you’re here to tell me that if I hurt him, I’m basically dead?”

“Nah,” Pacer grins and pats him on the shoulder. “Just that if you make him cry, I’ll make _you_ cry. But you’re cool, in your own way, Doc, so I think we’ll be good.”

“Thanks?” Arcade says. “Anyways, I’ve really got to go.” He puts on his hat and scarf and heads out into the cold and windy campus.

* * *

“Do you have the homework from Physics the other day?” Julie quietly asks. As usual, she’s sitting on her bed, Arcade at her desk. Arcade turns and hands her a sheet of paper.

“Julie.”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” She snaps, as if reading his thoughts and knowing what he was going to say.

Arcade sighs. If Julie’s getting so upset, he knows it’s something serious. They’ve been going steady for several months now, nothing but a catastrophe could break them apart. “I thought you just might want to confide in someone. I’m always here to listen, Julie. I’m not taking sides here.”

She scowls, then deflates and rubs one eye. “Fine. I’ll explain.”

Arcade moves to sit at her side on the bed.

“Well, we were hanging out here yesterday afternoon,” Julie explains. “You know, just hanging and maybe getting a little frisky. I knew that we wouldn’t be interrupted until a couple of hours later.” She blushes and picks at a loose thread on her cardigan, avoiding Arcade’s eyes. “And I maybe asked her if she wanted to take things a little further. But she,” Julie sniffs, “she shot me down. And don’t me wrong, I’m so glad she said no! I don’t want to do anything if she doesn’t want to, you know.”

“And that’s what started your fight?” Arcade says.

Julie shrugs. “I guess. I told her what I just told you, that I was glad that she stopped me, but I guess I was a little disappointed, and she saw that. It’s just, just that I’ve never done anythin’ with anybody, and I was maybe worried that,” she starts crying and Arcade quickly hands her a box of tissues, “I thought that maybe there was just something wrong with me, and I got a little upset and asked her why she didn’t want to and she- she said-”

“It’s okay,” Arcade uselessly says, patting her on the back. “What did she say?”

“She said she wasn’t ready, which is okay, but then she kinda got a little annoyed and said I was always trying to jump on things before they’re ready. And I asked her what _that_ was supposed to mean, and she said that I was always trying to push things. But she’s so _old-fashioned_ , Arcade, and I know waiting is important to some people, but if I want to get into something with someone, it’s serious and that means a lot to me, and that doesn’t happen very often.” She leans against his shoulder. “And I don’t know what happened, we started diggin’ up stuff about each other and throwing it around, and I was so _insecure_ about it, Arcade, I accused her of not thinking I’m pretty enough or liking me enough. And she said that I was smothering her and that we just needed some space. But- but-”

Arcade rubs her shoulder and says nothing. He's surprised at this. They seemed like such a rock-solid couple. But he's sure they can still bounce back from this, and this hurdle will only make them stronger. They just need to calm down and then talk it over.

“We were shouting at each other and it was _awful_ and I yelled at her to just get out, just leave, and she _did_ and what if she _hates_ me, Arcade, what if we break up…”

“Hey now, she might be a little mad but she doesn’t hate you,” he says. “How about you take a couple of days to calm down and think about things, then get together and just talk. Tell her how bad your fight made you feel, and how much you regret the things you said. Then you can discuss the core issue. I’ll all work out if you just communicate.” Why does Julie even trust his romantic advice? He's just winging it all. Before K, he's never seriously dated anyone.

Julie dabs a few final tears away with a tissue, then crumples it and throws it into a small trash can. “Thanks, Arcade. It just sucks, you know? It just sucks.” She rubs her eyes. “How about we get working? It’ll get my mind off things.”

“Sure thing.” He sits back down at the desk and pulls out his notebook. “So did you get what the professor was saying about gravity…”

* * *

Arcade doesn’t see neither Veronica nor Julie at lunch for the next two days. He doesn’t eat alone, of course. Pacer drags him to sit with the other Kings, a chaotic and boisterous experience. He makes good on his promise to visit his boyfriend, hanging out with him and listening to him feverishly ramble about the TV, and how handsome Arcade is, and how good his soup tastes, but that he wishes it had more chicken and less noodles, and whatever comes to his mind.

On Friday, Julie passes him a note during their morning class. 

> _Thanks for the help. It all worked out after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED: June 10, 2018
> 
> Some drama... While the problem on one side is resolved, another one is waiting to bloom...
> 
> Next chapter: Valentine's Day!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentine's Day drama.

****“Will you be the King to my Queen?” Some random girl asks him, boldly presenting him with a rose. Some girls at a nearby cafeteria table giggle.

“Oh, maybe some other time, your Majesty,” the King accepts the flower with a wink.

Arcade looks up from his lunch with a frown. Across the table, Julie and Veronica share a worried glance.

A very shy guy silently hands him a small box of chocolates.

“They won't be as sweet as you, though, hun,” the King chuckles. He lets go of Arcade’s hand to take the box.

Valentine's day is in full swing on campus. Student organizations are selling roses in front of the cafeteria doors, and lovers are dreamily walking around hand-in-hand. Every restaurant in town is booked for the night, and every dorm monitor is on high alert for sneaky rule-breakers. Brave students take this opportunity to confess their adoration for the King, the college’s most popular stud (as voted by the university newspaper). Roses, love poems, and small gifts are starting to pile up on the lunch table behind him.

But the love in the air does not match the tension currently brewing at the table. The King is apparently oblivious to his boyfriend’s annoyance. But even Pacer is beginning to nervously glance between them.

Arcade stabs his fork in his pasta a little more forcefully than necessary, face stormy and jaw tightly clenched. It's not that he's getting presents. Arcade knows that his boyfriend is very admired and popular, and it would be rude to refuse the gifts. But does he have to be so damn _flirty_ with everyone?

He reaches for the King’s hand, but loses his confidence halfway through the motion. Arcade instead clenches his fists in his lap. _Stop being so insecure,_ he tells himself. The King doesn't actually care about these people. That's just how he is. He can't help being friendly and popular. Still...he doesn’t like it.

“Can I have a kiss on the cheek?” A greaser boy asks. “I want to be able to say a gorgeous man kissed me on Valentine's Day. Hell, even a real kiss would count.”

The King laughs and stands up. Julie looks at Arcade and puts a hand on Veronica’s shoulder. Both of them warily watch their friend grow more and more upset. The King leans in and flirtily grins at the guy. But before he can kiss him, he's interrupted by the sound of a lunch tray slamming on a table. Everyone else at the table jumps at the sudden noise. Arcade abruptly stands and grabs his bag.

“Arcade-” Julie says, standing up as well.

“Sunshine-” The King tries to grab his arm and stop him, but he pushes past him and storms out of the cafeteria. The King is caught in a rare moment of uncertainty, staring at Arcade’s retreating back.

He's startled by a hand firmly placed on his shoulder. “If you don't go after him right now,” Veronica almost snarls, “He won't have such a pretty face to be mad at. And I know he'd get real ticked at me for messin’ you up, so get a move on and fix what you done broke.”

“But I-”

“Arcade doesn't get mad very easily,” Julie interrupts him, coming up on his other side and putting the King’s bookbag into his hands. “He simmers without saying anything, then explodes eventually. But he doesn't get mad for no reason. And you gave him a reason. Now go. He’s probably in the bathroom.” She pushes him towards the door.

The King jogs down the hallway and finds his boyfriend alone in the bathroom standing in front of a sink.

“Go away!” Arcade snaps, his voice echoing off the tile. “Just leave me alone!”

“I'm sorry, Arcade, just talk to me, okay sunshine?” K knows better than to approach him, so he stays at the other end of the row of sinks. “I know I fucked up real bad. I just want to fix what I've done.”

Arcade crosses his arms. “It's nothing. Just go away.”

“No.” The King grabs his arm when he tries to shoulder past him and out of the bathroom. “Just lay it on me. Get it all out, yell at me all you want. Just don't push me away, sunshine. I don’t wanna play hot n’ cold with ya.”

“Fine!” Arcade snaps. “You really want to hear what I think? I feel like you're too friendly with everyone. I'm jealous that you can so easily show other people affection! I'm scared that that doesn't mean that you even really feel anything for me!” He turns his back, but K can still see him take off his glasses and rub his eyes. “You never even kiss me, K, and I hate that I'm too scared to just do it myself because I'm worried that you're going to reject me!”

“Arcade,” K whispers. “Darlin’, of course you mean something to me. You- ya really think that you don't? How could you think that when you're the best boyfriend I've ever had, sunshine.” He hesitantly reaches out and touches his shoulder. “You're smart and caring, and I know that you're passionate in your own way. In just a month, you've put me over the moon. So don't- don't ever think that I don't care about you.”

He waits, but Arcade doesn’t respond. But he doesn’t bolt out of the bathroom either. “I’m sorry I acted like that. I’m sorry I made you feel like you don’t mean nothin’ to me. I’m just- I’m just not great at being sincere to someone I really got feelings for.” He nervously swallows. “I’ll try harder. Will you accept my apology, ‘Cade?”

“Yeah.” Arcade is quiet. He turns and wraps his arms around himself. “Sorry I yelled at you instead of just talking it out. I’ll try to speak up sooner if something bothers me.”

“Well, now that that kerfuffle is all wrapped up…” The King reaches into his bag. “It _is_ Valentine’s Day, darlin’, or did you forget? I got a little somethin’ for ya.”

Arcade perks up. “Oh, me too! I almost forgot. Close your eyes.” K closes his eyes and expectantly holds out his hands. Arcade takes his left hand and slips something around his wrist. “Okay, open your eyes.”

“Oh, sunshine, this is boss!” A thin leather bracelet is around his wrist, stamped with a small sun symbol. Arcade has a matching bracelet around his wrist, though his has a little crown on it. “Okay, now your turn! Shut your peepers, no peekin’ now!”  

Arcade feels something warm and soft settle around his neck. At K’s signal, he opens his eyes and looks down to see a short beige scarf. He touches it and runs his fingers over a small embroidered black crown. “This is really nice, K. Thanks!”

“I mean, you’re basically an honorary King now, thought ya should have somethin’.” He grabs the ends of the scarf and tugs Arcade down for a kiss.

They jump apart as the door opens and someone comes into the bathroom. They quickly pretend to have been doing anything besides what they were doing. The King checks his hair in the mirror, Arcade smooths his new scarf down over his coat.

“I’ve got to run to class,” Arcade says. “I- maybe we could go out tonight?”

“Sounds like a blast, but I’ve got rehearsal ‘till seven. Maybe you could come and watch? Teach won’t mind. We start at five.”

“Uh, okay, if you’re sure.”

Pacer, Julie, and Veronica are waiting for them outside the bathroom. Julie breaks off with Arcade to go to class, but Veronica grabs K’s arm.

“Listen,” she whispers, “you pull that kind of stunt again and it doesn’t all work out without tears, we’re going to have a problem.”

“Gotcha. Won’t happen again, promise.”

“Good. Cuz’ Julie and Arcade don’t like me tumblin’, he’d be real frosted if I had to break your nose. Now let’s get goin’. I don’t wanna be late for class.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED: June 10, 2018
> 
> *hitting Arcade with a stick* Communicate with your boyfriend, dammit! 
> 
> Slang:  
> boss : really great  
> tumble : fight  
> frosted : angry


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arcade is not sure.  
> The first part is a continuation of last chapter.

“Are you sure…” Arcade nervously fiddles with the strap of his bag.

“Come on, darlin’, stop draggin’ your feet like a damn elephant. It’s gonna be fine, Prof’ll love ya.” K keeps an arm around Arcade’s waist as he opens the door to the auditorium.

“Old Van Dyke hates _everyone_ you’ve ever brought, K,” Pacer mutters from behind them.

K just shrugs. “Well, Van Dyke already knows ‘Cade, he met him that one time. Now come on, we’ve got to get in and do warm-ups.” He more or less drags Arcade into the dim and spacious room. A few of the Kings whistle and wave from the front-row seats.

“Ken, there you are,” the short professor says, turning to them with a frown. “You’re almost late. And who is this? Have I not talked to you before about bringing _friends_ to class?” He frowns at Arcade. “Oh, young man, we’ve met before, haven’t we? You’re in the pre-med program with Doctor Smith.”

Arcade silently nods and lets his boyfriend do the talking.

“Yes, sir,” K says. “We were going to go out tonight, but I didn’t want to miss practice. But I didn’t want to disappoint Arcade either, so I asked him to come here.”

Professor Van Dyke looks between them, his eyes narrowing at Arcade’s scarf. “I see.” He gestures towards the stage. “Well, hop to it, Ken. Your friend can stay as long as he doesn’t cause any trouble.”

“Here, sunshine, you can just sit up here.” K leads him to the middle of the auditorium seats. He plops his backpack down in a seat and folds his coat over it. Arcade hesitantly sits down and takes off his own jacket.

“Are you sure-”

“Darlin’, it’s all cool,” K reassures him. “Just hang out and chill. Study or somethin’. Prof likes ya at least a little bit, otherwise he woulda given you the boot right away.”

Arcade takes a deep calming breath. “Alright. I’ll sit here and study a little. Just don’t go showing off because I’m watching, alright? I think your teacher would kill both of us if you got injured doing something stupid just to impress me.”

K pouts. “Fine. Just for you.” He kisses Arcade on the cheek, then scrambles to the stage to join his classmates in warming up, both physically and vocally. Arcade buries his head in a book to hide his blush. He had grabbed a random book from his bag, some collection of short stories in Latin. Fascinated by the language from his medical studies, Arcade had picked up the language slowly but steadily. He peeks up from his book at the stage, where Van Dyke is directing the group.

Arcade is momentarily distracted from his book when K runs a hand through his hair, showing off his toned arms. Then he quickly looks down and focuses on the foreign words in front of him.

The group of theater students rehearse several scenes from a musical that Arcade vaguely recognizes. A few of the songs even seem familiar from small snatches of verse that Pacer and K have been humming nonstop the last week. He notices that K has quite a large role in the production as one of the main characters, having several scenes and songs just to himself.

A small glimmer of pride warms his chest. The King is so good at what he does. Not only is he talented, but he works insanely hard to be the best. Arcade is glad that he didn’t just turn out to be an arrogant frat after all. The memory of their fight earlier that day resurfaces in his mind, and he winces at the thought. Even if he did kind of act like a jerk today, at least he admitted it and sincerely apologized. And it’s not like Arcade was a paragon of communication today either. He knows enough of his own flaws to admit that is was a balanced pile of shit. At least it all worked out.

Halfway through class, he feels someone looming over his shoulder. Arcade decides to just ignore them and keep reading, frowning down at a particularly convoluted passage.

“Latin, eh?” Professor Van Dyke says, startling Arcade and making him fumble to keep his page. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I will admit that I was simply curious about you.”

Arcade clears his throat and tries not to look nervous. “Oh. Good. I mean, okay. I mean, sorry that K-Ken dragged me here today, he felt bad about not being able to hang out tonight, and wanted to make it up to me. I didn’t mean to intrude on your class, I don’t mean any disrespect.”

The professor leans against the back of his chair. “Most curious, that Ken would be with someone like you. Not that that’s a bad thing,” he reassures, “it’s just that he usually seeks out obnoxious loudmouths, fools who are only with him for a week, yet who somehow manage to disturb my class every five minutes.”

Arcade squirms under his sharp eyes, reminded of his conversation with Pacer a few weeks ago. “I understand, sir. Popularity can attract some undesirable attention.”

“Hm.” Van Dyke shrugs and pats him on the shoulder. “That sure is correct. But I think you have been a positive influence on that young man, what with your common sense and bookish ways,” he nods at the tome in Arcade’s hands, “and as long as you both continue to behave yourselves, you are welcome to sit in on my rehearsals anytime.”

His eyes flicker back up to the stage. “Well, I have to get back to it. You know those ruffians, always getting into mischief soon as I turn my back.” With one final pat on Arcade’s shoulder, he plods down the stairs and back in front of the stage.

Arcade sighs and lets his shoulders relax. That went surprisingly well. He returns to his book and reads undisturbed until the end of class.

“Come on, let’s ditch this scene,” K says, returning up to him and grabbing his coat from the chair. “All of the good joints are probably booked full for Valentine’s Day, but we can just get carry out or somethin’.”

Arcade quickly shoves his book back into his bag and throws on his coat. “Sounds great. Let’s go.”

* * *

“Are you sure about this…” Arcade whispers, technicolor light reflecting off his glasses.

K stops. His hand is on Arcade’s thigh, their heads pressed together. The movie projector in the room behind them whirrs, and the sounds of the characters on-screen cover their soft voices. “If you’re not sure, sunshine, say so. We can just stop.”

They’re alone in the back row of a small movie theater, only a handful of other patrons in attendance. Wednesday night movies don’t draw large crowds. Halfway into a moderately boring flick, they had started to get a little handsy in the way that only teenagers can.

“I’m just not...I’m just not sure.” Arcade shrugs, eyes cast downward. “It’s not you, it’s just...I’m not sure if I feel comfortable doing this here.”

K moves his hand back down to Arcade’s knee. “I get ya, Arcade. You wanna just neck back here for a bit? No hands involved.” He leans in close and kisses him, and Arcade melts into the embrace with a quiet hum of agreement.

* * *

“Are. You. Sure.” Arcade flatly asks, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, ‘course, it’s March, plenty warm enough!” K confidently says, already stripped down to his boxers. Beside him, Pacer grins and gives Arcade a thumbs-up, similarly undressed.

Arcade sighs and folds his arms. “First of all, it’s the first day of March. But fine. It’s your choice. But don’t come crying to me when you two get hypothermia.”

A few passerby yell and applaud as the two boys cannonball into the university pond. Arcade stands well out of splashing range, a pile of clothing at his feet. Pacer whoops and quickly swims to shore, giving K a hand to help him climb out of the water.

“Okay, Doc, you mighta been right about that,” Pacer admits, accepting the towel that Arcade reluctantly hands him.

“Was still fun,” K says, wrapping a towel around himself and rubbing his arms. “Nicky owes me 2 dollars.” He shivers and tries to hug Arcade, who concedes and wraps an arm around him. Of course he did it on a dare for money. Because why not?

“Come on, get dressed and we’ll go inside,” Arcade says, giving his boyfriend a peck on the cheek. “I’ve still got to eat dinner before study night tonight.”

“Study, study, study,” K groans. “Don’t you do anything else?”

Arcade gives him a look. “I _am_ a pre-med student, so yeah, that generally takes up most of my day. And besides, don’t you have rehearsal almost every night starting next week?”

“Yeah, I guess you got me there. Now let’s hit the road, we’d better hurry to the caf before it fills up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDITED: June 10, 2018. 
> 
> Professor Van Dyke was from Chapter 2, I think? Though he calls them "friends", I think he really knows what is up, but doesn't want to accidentally out them or anything.  
> Not really much slang to explain this time, mostly words that have already been used. Lots of college shenanigans though. Early March is NOT spring, folks. Don't go swimming in your local university lake. 
> 
> Next chapter: A rough finals week. For the characters, not for me (coincidentally, I just did finish my own exams).


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowzers I've got some warnings for this chapter: panic attack (the beginning scene), language, and implied homophobia that leads to a fight.

 

Arcade can’t focus. The numbers in the textbook in front of him are swimming and not making any sense. Something about thermodynamics equations. He rubs his head. Normally, the music and singing from onstage in this auditorium would be a soothing background to his studying, but right now it jangles at his nerves.

This is the most stressful week of the entire semester. It always is. The last week of class, finals peeking around the corner. For Arcade, this means nonstop studying and reviewing. For the King, this means ceaseless rehearsals. Every night from right after class until late at night.

He needs to study. He’s been staring at the same page for the last few minutes without concentrating on anything. Physics has always been his weakest subject, but it’s part of his program. It’s just past seven o’clock. They’re going to stop for dinner soon.

But Arcade doesn’t feel very hungry. There’s something dark curling in his stomach, but it’s not hunger. He abruptly stands from his seat in the back of the auditorium, jogging down the stairs to the door. Onstage, the show goes on, but there’s a tension there too that just winds that knot up even more. It’s getting closer and closer to performance day, and things are going wrong, both with the music and between the cast members. Small fights, raised voices, technical problems.

It’s not helping. The bathroom, though, is quiet. It’s empty at this time of day; besides rehearsals, nothing else is going on in this building. Just the echo of his shoes against the tile.

He needs to pass Physics. But, of course, in order to get into medical school, he needs to pass all of his classes with flying colors. He has a good grade in the class. He can’t afford to mess it up now. What is he doing wasting time right now? He needs to get back in and sit down and study. Make a study guide. Go back over his notes so he can come up with questions to ask the professor tomorrow during their review day, otherwise he’s going to have to ask during office hours, which he’s not going to be able to make it to, because he has a class at that time-

“Arcade?” K peeks his head in the door, obviously trying not to look worried.

Arcade jumps. How long has he been standing here alone? “I’m fine,” he snaps, wiping his wet cheek. Oh fuck, he’s crying. He’s not fine. “Just not feeling well.”

“Hey, come on, sunshine.” K takes his arm and puts an arm around his waist. “It’s gonna be okay. Hey Pace, go grab his stuff, wrap up one of the sandwiches and put it in his bag too. Just go home and rest, hun.”

Something about this sends up a flare of irritation in Arcade’s chest. He’s not going to be able to do well on his exams if he’s having a breakdown in the bathroom every five minutes, and he certainly doesn’t need anyone to coddle him and tell him it’s going to be okay, like he’s a _child._

But his head is fuzzy and the irritation floats away before has a chance to get properly annoyed. In what seems like a flash, his bag is over his shoulder and his boyfriend is giving him a kiss on the cheek, then he’s outside. The campus is windy, the sun starting to slowly set.

He goes home. Not much sticks out from the long walk. It doesn’t even feel long, like he steps outside of the theatre building and into his dorm room.

He should study; he has time. He should eat; he has food.

But he doesn’t. He just undresses, puts on his softest pair of pajamas, and goes to bed.

* * *

Pacer knows that something is wrong when he comes back to the apartment to find his roommate and best friend sitting on the couch crying like his favorite band just broke up. There is a suspicious lack of anyone else in the room. Suspicious, considering the fact that when Pacer left twenty minutes ago to go to the store, Arcade was here, and he wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon.

He dumps the food he bought on the counter. “K? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“It’s all my fault,” he wails. Can he go a day without being overdramatic?

“Well, I fuckin’ doubt that’s true.” Instead of putting the ice cream in the freezer, Pacer keeps it out and fetches bowls and spoons. Gals apparently do this when someone’s upset, so it probably works with fellas too, right?

“It _is_ true. I’m stupid and I don’t know how to be sincere, and now ‘cade _hates_ me and we’re probably going to _break up,_ Pace, why can’t I just be a good boyfriend?” He wipes his face on his sleeve (gross) and takes the ice cream. “This week _sucks_ and I fuckin’ _hate_ it.”

Pacer sighs. He was hoping for a more detailed explanation than that. His ice cream is soothing him too, at least. All the calming sweet treats in the world are not going to get him through this crisis. He needs to be anti-frantic for his friend in his time of need.

“Why am I eating _ice cream,_ Pace, we’re supposed to be keeping our weight down, we can’t be eating so much during performance week.”

And now he’s whining about the wonderfully nice gesture he just made! “Okay, well, I’m going to go find him and get some kind of tale from the Doc.”

“No….” K grabs his arm. “Don’t go ape on him, he didn’t do nothin’. He’s too pretty to get beat up-”

“Cool your fuckin’ jets, man.” Pacer’s almost a little _offended._ “I’m not about to go beatin’ up your four-eyes, that’d be like kickin’ a puppy. But you’re giving me literally _nothing_ about this situation. I’ll be back soon. Eat your ice cream and stop bitchin’.”

* * *

Veronica knows that something has gone sideways when Arcade doesn’t show up for lunch.

“He was in class today.” Julie shrugs and picks at her food. “But he looked kind of sick. I don’t know for sure, but I think he went back to his dorm for lunch.”

“And how are you feeling, Julie?” Her girlfriend looks a little pale, and dark circles have formed under her usually-bright eyes. “Here, have my dessert.” It’s chocolate cake today, Julie’s favorite.

She shrugs. “I’m just stressed out. My physics final is on Tuesday, but I still have my Physio one tomorrow.”

“But after that, you’ve only got Microbiology and Ethics, and you’re going to ace those, easy. And you’ve been nose to the grindstone with Physics, you’ll kill it.” Veronica has her own exams to worry about, but she’s long since learned that if she focuses on cheering up Julie, her own mental state is going to improve. She’s going to make it through this tough week. “And listen, I’ve got my big project presentation on Friday. This week is going to be nuts. But we should totally go out afterwards, go dancing or something to celebrate. We deserve it.”

Julie cracks a smile. “Yeah, you’re right. I feel like this every semester, and I always get near-perfect scores. It’ll be fine.” Her smile fades. “I hope Arcade’s not sick or something. Where’s K?”

Veronica looks around the room. She frowns. Pacer is sitting behind them with the other Kings, but their leader is noticeably absent. “I don’t know. Let’s ask Pace, he’ll probably know.” She stands and walks to their table. “Hey.”

“Hey, Veronica. Julie.” Pacer sighs. He looks tired too. “I assume you want to know what’s happenin’.”

“So something _did_ happen.” Veronica’s eyes narrow. “Tell us everything.”

Pacer joins them at their near-empty table. “So here’s the story as I know it: They had a fight. A bad one. You know how this time of year is, it’s rough.” Julie nods in agreement. “Doc was getting snappy. He was real frantic about those monster exams you pre-med folks have. He, of course, claims that the whole thing was his fault. But K is saying the same thing. In his eyes, he pushed where he shouldn’t have pushed, made things worse instead of just listening and trying to help.”

“That’s rough.” Julie squeezes Veronica’s hand. “This whole situation is rough. What are they going to do?”

“I convinced both of ‘em to take a week off and cool off. Then, they just need to talk about it.”

Veronica and Julie share a knowing glance. “How about we help them along?” Veronica suggests. She has one of those dumb romantic cliché ideas forming in her brain. “We can arrange something, some event for them to meet and make up. Opening night is Thursday, right?” Pacer affirms that. “Then we’ve got some time before the end of the semester. Listen, we can set up the details later. We gotta scram and go to class.”

“Sounds peachy keen to me. I’ll do anythin’ to get my pal out of the dumps.” Pacer shakes their hands. “It’s on, sis.”

* * *

Unfortunately, Veronica’s stupid (read: great) plan doesn’t get a chance to happen. Dammit, and she almost had Arcade convinced he should bring flowers. What _does_ happen might be more romantic, though. To Veronica, at least. Julie probably didn’t think it was very romantic, but she also doesn’t like fights.

Tuesday. A rough day for Julie and Arcade. But their Physics exam was in the morning, and she knows that they’ll be free for the rest of the day. A shame, since Veronica has her math final at three. Veronica’s already sitting at their lunch table when she sees them come in. They look exhausted but not super low, so the exam probably went fine. And Veronica is happy that Arcade isn’t spending all of his time hiding out in his room. He’s joining them for lunch, and so is K, though two tables over.

The cafeteria is relatively empty today. Most students’ schedules have been upended by finals week, so there’s only a smattering of students and a table of professors. It’s quiet enough that Veronica, even from across the room, can hear the fight start.

It’s motherfucking _Bill_ and _Clyde_ from the Khans biker gang. How ironic. And a bit nostalgic, if Veronica’s to be honest, remembering how she and Julie had met. And it started with Jerry too, of course. Because the universe just wants things to be parallel and fun.

There are things said and people pushed and folks pulled into the incident that maybe weren’t originally a part of it. Veronica, seeing trouble on Julie’s face, stands from her seat and rushes over in time to hear some unrepeatably terrible things said to Arcade about his relationship with the King.

Arcade doesn’t hesitate before punching Clyde in his big sneering face.

Julie yelps and steps back. Veronica rushes to her side and pulls her a safe distance away from the fight. Veronica definitely wants to join in, of course, but making sure her girl is okay takes priority. And she _had_ promised to get into less fights.

It’s a quick fight, though, as fights go. Arcade is a big guy, though Veronica knows that he’s never been in a fight in his life. He’s clearly not interested in seriously injuring the other two, but he gets in some satisfying hits nonetheless. Some professors step in and pull them apart.

“What the _hell_ is going on here?”

Arcade wipes blood from his lip. “Sorry, Professor Van Dyke, sir.” He doesn’t look very sorry. Besides his lip, he doesn’t look hurt at all, which can’t be said about the other boys.

Van Dyke, whose name Veronica vaguely recognizes (theatre teacher, maybe?), looks between them. “Well, since I _did_ hear everything that was said, I don’t even know why I bothered asking. You two hooligans, Dean’s office. Right now. We’re going to have a nice long chat about harassment and bullying on campus. You, young man,” he lays a hand on Arcade’s shoulder. “Are you quite alright? I haven’t seen you at rehearsals in a week, Ken said you were feeling unwell. And now this? Do you need the nurse’s office?”

For a professor that definitely was not actually teaching Arcade, he sure was invested in his well-being. Veronica squeezes Julie’s hand. This has been a _stressful_ week. At least Van Dyke seems willing to let them off the hook for fighting. If only their other problems could be solved so easily-

“Arcade? Sunshine, are you _okay_ I saw you punch a guy-” The King comes barreling in, hugging Arcade from the side and almost knocking him off his feet.

Well, it seems like this problem _is_ going to get solved. This turned out to not be such a terrible Tuesday after all. A few whispers pass between the previously feuding couple, quick words about “communication” and “listening” and “finding ways to healthily manage stress”.

It’s over and done with in the blink of an eye, sealed with a kiss that is maybe a tad too passionate for a university cafeteria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geezus Creeepers (oops that's 90s slang, not 50s!), y'all, I don't know how this one got done. Shoutout to @alleggsander, who commented a few days ago, and somehow granted me inspiration to re-edit the whole thing and then write a whole ending chapter. 
> 
> Arcade's Bad Bad panic attack based off a colossal breakdown I had Sophomore year during my French grammar class!!! Use the stress-managing tools and services your university gives you, folks! 
> 
> What was said to Arcade that made him do a Hit? Use your imagination. I was going to write it, but just know that it was real bad 50's era homophobic violent shit. 
> 
> I should have written this whole fic from Pacer and Veronica's POVs, it would have been 50% funnier. I'd have a little section about slang, but I don't think I used anything that I haven't used in other chapters. 
> 
> Thanks for reading till the end and being real patient (a whole 6 months since the last update! Oops!)!

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be a little smaller than normal, but with more frequent updates (hopefully!).  
> Title is from "Dream Lover" by Bobby Darin (1959).


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